"i'm hearing what you're saying. no, i'm hearing the words you are using. but there is no meaning to them. or if there is..." she took a step back.

he was just staring at her. like it was her fault. was it her fault?

"what is it that you want me to understand?"

"i'm not a human being," he said. "i have all the parts, everything i need, but nothing seems to fit. i mean, i eat, i breathe, i think, i live, but it's on a completely different level. i wake up in the morning and i don't even exist."

she thought back to all the times she said she'd never do this.

"i'm telling you this partly because i need to and partly because you need to hear it."

she felt torn between scratching his face off and screaming euphamisms at him.

"no one is like anyone else."

she took a step toward him.

"oh, yeah?"

another step.

he looked alien to her.

she didn't know why she even felt enough for him to be having this conversation.

another step.

he backed away, up against the wall.

she hated everything about him. especially how she knew she meant nothing at all to him.

the last step.

"then you won't feel me."

she reached out with her right hand. her fingers were shaking. their tips make contact with the material of his shirt, and she thrust her arm into his chest. she felt all of the things he said didn't fit. his ribs, lungs, his heart. it was convulsing in her palm. she kept her hand right there, while the rest of her arm just melded into his body.

then it started to hurt.

she felt the meaning behind those words crawling from her hand, up behind her spine, snaking through her chest and constricting her throat.

she looked up into his eyes. he was scared, too.

she couldn't breathe out, only in. she stopped. she fell backward, but her arm was still inside his chest. her back was arched, in some sort of contorted grace, like a dancer's.

he tried to pull her out of him. he couldn't. she was him, like the twin that died inside of him before they were born.

he sighed.

he walked over to the bed and layed down. he felt her weight on top of him, but it wasn't as bad as he'd thought.

the boy who has always been there: